


Hunter Haunted

by RayMoonlight



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminal Minds Setting, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Crack Crossover, Ghost Ash, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, bear with this crack, the BAU hunts Dean Winchester's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayMoonlight/pseuds/RayMoonlight
Summary: From time to time, Dean and his friend Ash meet up for some casual fun. But although Dean wishes to hide their wild activities in the realm of his imagination, they don't stay without consequences forever. And something doesn't seem to be quite right with Ash...
Relationships: Ash/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 2





	Hunter Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Criminal Minds crossover VERY loosly inspired by CM episode 6x19 that starrs one familiar face from Supernatural and includes a scene paralleling an all too known scene from SPN. My friend told me to write some crack out of it, so I did. 
> 
> Leave some kuddos if you like this! :) and please be kind, English isn't my first language  
> Enjoy!

**Hunter haunted**

Dean sat at the bar when the haunting figure appeared again. Ash. He knew him all too well by now. With a grin on his face Ash laid back on the pool table and shot him a challenging look.

„What?“, Dean asked.

„You know.“ Ugh. Yes he did indeed. „You wanna have some fun tonight?“, Ash continued.

An intriguing offer. But he couldn‘t lose controll of himself like that again. On the other hand, who else did he ever have that much fun with? Dean couldn‘t name a single soul.

And somehow whenever he let himself loose with Ash, it felt like it was not part of this world. Like it was not real, but rather some wicked kind of daydream, a catharsis he let himself fall into because he knew it would not have any consequences. A nightmare, yes, but in a scary way he seemed to enjoy the horror. Whenever he said yes to Ash‘s idea of fun, he felt himself enter a state of mind in which nothing hurt and nothing died. Whatever monster he killed, spawned again some place else and whoever he couldn‘t safe, came back everytime. He could give in to the side of his heart he rather kept hidden. With Ash, he believed himself to be part of something unreal, creatures moving in the shadows. Be it shadows of sheets or in the streets, whatever instincts they gave into, it would stay between them and never be part of the anything Dean would have to consider any longer than it lasted.

But in a distant corner of his mind he feared his desires played tricks on him. What if everything was real after all?  
Ash stood up from his place on the pool table and moved towards him. He leaned on the bar, touching Dean‘s arm in passing.

No way, Dean thought when he looked at him. His name ‚Ash‘ fitted his look and the air around him just fine. He looked somewhat grey, like he was already dead, a mere ghost of his burned remains. Some item had to bind him to this world, if his body had actually been burned, Dean‘s hunter brain reminded him. But the thought was quickly lost again.

Instead, he answered Ash‘s seductive grin with a lick of his lips and a pad on Ash‘s shoulder.

„Let‘s go.“

~~~

Dean woke up in the bed of a motel room. His head hurt like hell and he was trying to recall what had happened. The only thing he got instead of memories was the blood on his hands. He sat up to take a better look at himself and everything around him, when suddenly, a noise from above him catched his attention.

He looked.

And screamed.

Above him, on the ceiling, was Ash. He laid there, with the back on the wall and facing Dean. His arms were spread from him like was nailed to the ceiling like a cross. The noises were the sounds coming out of his mouth. He groaned as if his body was slowly being teared apart into thousand different directions. Pain was written all over his hollow, haunted eyes.

A indistinct smell came from him. Burnt flesh and smoke and ash. Flames seemed to be coming from behind him, swallowing his skin and muscles inch by inch. It gnawed on him and it would not stop until it had eaten him whole and left nothing but his cleaned up teeth and bones.

Fascinated by the morbid scene, Dean was unable to move and take away his eyes from the terrifying sight. He watched all of it.

At the end, the fire had taken everything. Little pieces of ash rained down on Dean and soon the bed was covered in it. He held his hands out in front of him, starring. They were coated by a crust of blood and ashes.

~~~

After Dean had more or less successfully cleaned up the mess on himself and his clothes, he stepped out of the bathroom. His memories from last night were still hidden in dark, black smoke. Only the scene from this morning was burnt in his mind forever.

„So you‘re not the kind of guy to get me breakfast after, huh?“, a familiar voice surprised him.

There he stood, in a corner of the motel room, as if nothing had happened. Well, not nothing. But Ash certainly didn‘t look like he had just fallen into dust. More like some dust had fallen into him.

If Dean didn‘t wonder wether or not he might be a ghost, he would say Ash certainly did let some dust fall into him. But can ghosts even do that? He hadn‘t seen Ash share a beer with him, but what about other substances? Huh. Weird. Maybe some ghosts wouldn‘t act out like they did if they could just smoke a little weed from time to time.

After a long and bizarre journey, his train of thought travelled back to the question. Breakfast!

Not a bad idea after all. His stomach cried for anything with lots of bacon on it and his head demanded coffee.

„Actually, I wouldn‘t mind something to eat right now“, he said. Grabbing his jacket on the way out, he let Ash through the door and closed it after him. He made a mocking gesture, as if to mimic a gentleman. Ash snorted.

When they arrived at the nearby diner, they sat down at a small table in the back. The waiter came to them and took Dean‘s order: a big bacon-cheese sandwich with extra onions and a large coffee, black. He ignored Ash, who was playing with the dry leaves that had fallen off a plant next to them. The small tree was a rather sad sight. Most of its twigs and branches were empty and dead. Ash sitting next to it, the crumbles of its remains crushed between his fingers, seemed to fit right into the picture. It made Dean shudder.

They talked, Dean ate his sandwhich and some pie afterwards and it felt like what one would expect the morning after a wild but casual night together to feel like. Calm, taking a breath, filling up the batteries for the next hunt – or other shenanigans that left you sweatting and your heart racing. They made quite a team in both of these activities.

After a while, Dean started noticing a strange atmosphere in the diner though. More people were coming in and they shot him weird glances. Was his eating manner that messy? And why did they care? This was a diner, not the Four Seasons. Snobs. They should mind their own business.

He mentioned it to Ash, but he only laughed at him.

„Shut up“, Dean mumbled. Ash kept laughing. He had been rocking his chair and now nearly fell off it. Its metal legs made an ungly sound when they slammed on the floor. Several guests and the waiter turned their heads to them, alarmed by the noise.

At the same time, the TV over the counter showed the local news. The young man who had served Dean his food looked at it, not paricularly interested, but suddenly, an expression of pure horror appeared on his face. Nervously, he wrote something on his phone, gave it to his collegue and slowly approached Dean and Ash.

„Sir, did you enjoy your meal? Are you ready to pay?“, he asked Dean, trying to conceal his fear and keeping up his polite waiter voice.

„Uhm, well actually...“

„It‘s just that you haven‘t ordered anything in a while and other costumers are waiting for a seat. And since it‘s only one of you on a table for five I would kindly ask you to...“

„Excuse me?“, Ash interupted him, knocking over a bottle on the table. The waiter flinched.

„Please, I‘m sorry I have to ask you this. I understand you‘re upset. Please stay calm.“

What was he talking about? Dean was getting more and more annoyed by this guy. Ash was down right angry at this point.

„Piss off, would you“, Ash sneered at the waiter. The man didn‘t react.

„Hey! I‘m talking to you!“, Ash continued.

The waiter kept looking at Dean, whose head was going back and forth between Ash and the waiter.

„This asshole is ignoring me, Dean.“

„Hey! Asshole! Are you blind? Why are you ignoring him?“, Dean yelled at the waiter.

„Him? Who do you mean?“

„Who do I- sonofabitch.“

„Dean, I think we have to do something about this. He can‘t keep ignoring me. I think he should really get to know me“, Ash whispered, leaning across the table to look directly in Dean‘s eyes.

„You have anything in mind?“

„Since he‘s the once disturbing our fun, let‘s have some fun with him instead.“ Ash grinned and lifted up an eye brow. „You wanna have fun, right?“

Dean turned back to the waiter, who had been taking slow steps away from them and whose hands were visibly shivering.

„Yes“, Dean said with a grim smile on his lips.

And then, everything went dark again.

Only silhouttes of black and red came through to Dean‘s conciousness. In the big blurr of shadows and foggy figures, the feeling of pure violent rage was the only thing he was sure of that remained.

~~~

This time, when his mind stepped out of the fog again, Dean was not lying in a bed. No cussions under his body held him and no blanket kept him warm. This time he was standing up. Slowly, blinking away his dizziness, he became aware of his surroundings.

First, he felt something warm and wet running down his arms. At the end of the stream, in his right hand, lied his hunting knife. A piercing pain went through his shoulder when he tried to move. He looked up from his hands and took in the horrifying scene in front of him. He was still in the diner, but far away from his seat. In front of him, someone was kneeling on the floor, their head hanging down and facing the ground. A red liquid flowed from the hole in their chest onto their yellow shirt, dying it in the colors of the sunrise. At the place of their heart, Dean‘s knife had painted a bright red sun.

Spread across the room lay the bloody bodies of at least a dozen other people. The young waiter lay next to Dean‘s table, his face turned towards him with his eyes wide open and his mouth frozen in a scream. Ash sat on the table and let his feet kick towards the corpse‘s head. His playful and cocky attitude seemed to be a mocking of the death and suffering around him.

In the entrance to the diner stood a man with black hair and and a serious expression in a bullet proof vest pointing his gun at Dean. The letters „FBI“ were written over his torso. Next to him stood a younger man with curly brown hair who was now starting to speak to Dean.Dean couldn‘t quite understand what he was saying. He couldn‘t even comprehend what was happening. What had he done?

It took him some moments to realize, but it seemed like they wanted him to put down the blade he was gripping onto like he needed it to live. Shaking, he opened his hand and let it fall out.

At the same time his skin lost contact to the blade, the pain in his shoulder grew to be nearly unbearable. In a rushed motion, his hand grabbed his shoulder and he bent over until he sagged to the ground. The man who had shot him and a third, dark skinned man rushed to him, took his weapon and put him into handcuffs. He wasn‘t resisting. He saw what was coming for him and accepted his fate.

Tied to the stretcher, he passed out again in the ambulance. The ghost of his long dead friend waving at him and fading away was the last thing he saw before his eyes gave in to the darkness.

~~~

Dean didn‘t know if what he remembered from the following hours was a dream or the terrifying reality that seemed to be part of his life. He knew he fought something, but he didn‘t know if it was himself or a ghost of everyone he had ever failed that he had to face now. Any way, he was fighting for his life.

He wondered if the screams were coming from his own throat or if they were echoes of the people dying by his hands. Maybe he was screaming with them, because all the pain he had caused seemed to be crushing down on him now.

~~~

It could have been minutes or days or years Dean had spent in hell. When he woke up, he was covered in tubes and bandages and a blanket as white as snow. He blinked and slowly became aware of the room. It was filled with cold light and the sterile smell of disinfectants. He tried to move his head up to see more.

A chair scratched the floor.

The figure stepping to his side startled him. Dean had never seen this man before. He was wearing a trenchcoat and a blue tie hanging loosly from his neck. His serious blue eyes looked at Dean with what seemed like honest concern. Strangley, Dean felt like they were piercing right through him, right through his soul. Who was this guy?

He wasn‘t one of the agents who had arrested him, that much Dean was sure of. With his head still dizzy from the pain meds, Dean tried to understand. How was he alive? He remembered being shot and falling into a pit of agony, but he didn‘t remember crawling out of it again.

„Am I dead?“, he asked.

The man didn‘t laugh at him, like Dean would‘ve expected. „No, you are alive.“

Dean‘s sigh caused an irritated look on his face.

„Are you not happy you‘ve been saved, Dean?“, he asked, frowning.

„Doesn‘t feel like much of a rescue to me. Just a different kind of hell I‘m gonna end up when I go to prison.“

This time, the other man smiled.

„Well, this is why I‘m here. I‘m here to make sure that doesn‘t happen.“

That was impossible. Right? How would he do that?

„Who are you? And what the hell are you talking about, man?“

„I‘m Castiel and I‘m the one assigned to you by… well, let‘s just call it a higher power. You have drawn quite the attention to you.“

„What?? Like my lawyer??“

„Not exactly, but my… powers do give me an alternative option for you than to be locked away for your crimes.“

„Dude, you lost me here.“ What the hell were his pain meds doing with his brain?

„In return for raising you from hell by bringing back the souls you, in your rage, have slaughtered, the angels expect your obedient services. Do you accept this offer?“

Angels. Those sure were some good pain meds he was on.

„Your deal, is it gonna be sealed by a little kiss for you to be valid?“, Dean smirked.

Castiel blushed. „Actually, that‘s only demon deals who require this kind of validation.“ He tried not to look at Dean as casually as possible and flicked through a magazine lying on Dean‘s night stand.

„Your loss, I guess“, Dean shrugged.

„I‘m sure we will find other ways to get to know eachother since I will be the one to guide you through your missions“, Castiel answered with a soft smile on his lips.

„So date first?“

„Yes, Dean. I will hold your hand and help you out of hell.“

Best pain meds ever.


End file.
